


Shattered Glass

by spacebuck



Category: Avengers, Captain America, Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom!Bucky, Bucky has a mouth on him, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Smut, Violence, lil shit!Steve, self-deprication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:06:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2646218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebuck/pseuds/spacebuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been months since the incident at the Triskelion, months since Steve had found out that his best friend was still alive. Months since Bucky had saved his life while simultaneously trying to tear it down. Months since he had disappeared, leaving no trail and no way to find him. But now, he's back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered Glass

**Author's Note:**

> So this didn't start off with the intention of becoming smut, oops. This is the first smut fic I've published, and the first I've written in a _long_ time, so i hope it works out okay for you :D
> 
> The fic wouldn't have made it this far without the help of my two absolutely fabulous betas, [Laura](http://black-widow-is-better-than-you.tumblr.com) and [Sara](http://justlikebudapestagain.tumblr.com), who put in hours to help me not only get this fic up to scratch, but develop as a writer.  
> (also shoutout to [Hannah](http://steviebucks.tumblr.com) for helping me find such lovely people to beta for me)  
> <3
> 
> (updated tags, let me know if I've missed anything big)

The shower shut off in the other room, and Steve noted it’s absence instantly. He didn't leave his post next to the stove, stirring the contents of the large pot intermittently, but he was hyper-aware that soon Bucky would be joining him.

     That morning, when Bucky had shown up at his door, covered in grime and blood and looking so goddamned lost it had hurt to look at him, Steve let him in without a second thought. Bucky had fallen asleep within minutes of entering his apartment, curled up on the small couch. Steve had let him, covering him with a light blanket more for comfort than for warmth. He had looked like hell, and Steve had hoped the sleep would do him good.

     It had been months since the incident at the Triskelion, months since he had found out that his best friend was still alive. Months since Bucky had saved his life while simultaneously trying to tear it down. Months since he had disappeared, leaving no trail and no way to find him. Steve had tried to track him down, of course he’d tried, but after eight months of nothing, he was just getting more and more frustrated, more and more worried, Sam had decided that they needed to regroup. Sam had made the decision to return to the shattered ruins of S.H.I.E.L.D. for information, which had probably saved his life So that was where he had been, in his small apartment, refusing to stay in Avengers Tower, not being able to face the others with the failure of not finding Bucky resting on his shoulders.

     It was in that bare apartment that Bucky had found him. He had been engaging in his usual hobby of listening to the oldies station on the radio and sketching whatever came to mind when a knock on his door had tipped the tentative balance in his life.

     Steve pulled himself out of his own thoughts with a frown and resumed the stirring of the stew Sam had left for him. The bathroom door opened, and Steve heard Bucky’s uncertain footsteps approach before stopping on the other side of the counter.

     “I thought you’d be hungry, and Sam always cooks enough for a few days when he comes over.”

     Silence greeted Steve’s statement, and for a while Steve wasn’t sure if Bucky was even in the room anymore. Finally, there was the faint scraping of one of the bar stools being drawn out followed by the squeak as the seat compressed downwards. He took that as a sign of acceptance, and pulled out one of the massive bowls Natasha had bought him as a joke when he had first moved in. _Fit for a supersoldier-sized breakfast!_ the box had exclaimed, and according to Clint, she hadn’t been able to resist. Heaping out the thick stew into the bowl, he placed it in front of Bucky without looking at him, then got himself a bowl. Instead of sitting down, He leaned against the counter to watch as Bucky tasted the meal hesitantly.  


     “It’s not breakfast food, I know, but I thought it would be more filling than a bowl of cereal.”  


     Steve’s statement was met with silence again, but Bucky had started eating in earnest, so he took that as acceptance.

Bucky was still Bucky, beneath all of the conditioning. He still had impeccable table manners, the fork balanced gracefully between his fingers, not spilling a single drop despite the speed at which he was eating. Bucky finished the bowl and though he looked like he was considering asking for more, he shook his head softly when Steve offered before placing the fork carefully on the bench. Steve poured a glass of water and setting it beside Bucky’s hand without a word.  


     There was a noise, and Steve glanced at Bucky’s face. Bucky was trying to work through something in his head, form thoughts into words. Steve waited, knowing it would come eventually. He was rewarded when he heard Bucky’s voice, faint and scratchy from disuse.  


     “Thank you. For… the shower, the… clothes, the food.”  


     Steve smiled softly, and nodded. “You’re welcome, Buck, I’m happy to help.”  


     “Can I… ask a favour?”  


     “Anything, Buck.”  


     “Do you have pliers?” His voice was getting stronger as he gained confidence, and he looked up, meeting Steve’s gaze. His eyes were guarded, not hinting at the thoughts going on behind that stormy gaze.  


     Steve nodded and left to go find the tool that Bucky needed. He received a mumbled thank you when he returned, so Steve just smiled and turned his back on Bucky to clean up their meal. Behind him he heard creaking, whirring and then a moment of silence. Then Bucky started screaming.  


     **

     Bucky hadn’t asked for the pliers with the intention of doing this, hadn’t started the day with this need dragging across his skin, but it was there now. His skin was crawling with the knowledge that something of Hydra’s was so permanently a part of him. He had to get rid of it. And that was what drove him to it, driving the pliers into a gap where two of the metal plates joined across his forearm. He latched on to whatever he could, and yanked, as hard and as fast as he could manage. It must have been one of the main cables running through the arm from the nerves in his shoulder to his fingers, given the location. He had expected pain, but had expected to be able to manage it, like he always had. This was so much worse, the metal hand clamping onto the bench, digging gauges into the granite, but he still pulled against the wiring. He was dimly aware of someone screaming, realising that it was himself. He realised that there was someone rushing towards him from across the room, but he didn’t let up the pressure. It was like fire, only worse. It was like one thousand knives were being repeatedly plunged into his brain, like someone had driven a hot poker into his head and was sending electricity down it. He held on, hearing the faint shout of that name, his name. He felt wetness at his nose, a trickle of blood, and felt himself falling. Then his mind winked out.  


     **

     Steve barely managed to catch the unconscious Bucky as he slipped off the barstool, having crossed the small kitchen in a few long steps and all but vaulted over the small island. Steve carefully lowered Bucky to the ground, checking for a pulse. His mind was torn between sheer panic, and the calm that usually overtook it during a mission. That was the part kept his head on his shoulders, his blood pumping through in his veins, and his friends safe. Steve pulled the pliers out of Bucky’s arm, throwing them across the room, barely hearing the thud as they embedded themselves in the opposite wall. With his free hand, Steve pulled out his phone and shakily dialled the one person who not only would protect Bucky from SHIELD’s poking fingers without question, but had medical experience.  


     The moment Sam’s calm voice picked up the phone, Steve spoke quickly, voice cracking a little “Sam, I, oh god, Sam he’s bleeding.” The panicking part of his mind was starting to take over, and he was fighting a losing battle against it. It was in his voice and the shaking hand gripping the phone. Bucky had just walked back into his life, and now he was leaving again, leaving in the most permanent way possible. He didn’t know what to do, couldn’t do anything at all. Broken bones he could splint, cuts he could stitch. But this problem, this bleeding, it was inside Bucky’s head, and he was helpless.  


     Sam’s voice was calm and soothing in his ear as he spoke. “Who, Cap? Where are you? How bad?”  


     “At home, he’s…” His voice broke, his breath hitched before he continued. “Bucky’s bleeding. His nose, god, his ear, he just … just started ripping at his arm, started screaming. He passed out.” He was quiet now, too quiet, breaths faint against Steve’s palm when he checked, again. He didn’t move him, didn’t know if it would help or make things worse.  


     “I’m almost there, Steve. Stay calm, stay with him. I’m calling Tony. If it’s something to do with the arm, he can help.” There was the sound of pounding footsteps on the phone, and then a click as Sam hung up.  


     Steve dropped his phone to the side carelessly. _Oh god, Bucky don’t leave me._  


     Thumping on the stairs. The turn of a key in the lock, and his front door burst open.  


     “Kitchen, Sam.” Steve’s voice wavered slightly as he called out. In seconds Sam was there, calm but urgent as he worked to assess the extent of the damage. Steve could do nothing but move out of the way.  


     “Bruce is on his way with one of the cars. Tony’s prepping space for him in the lab. Can you carry him out?” It wasn’t a question of strength, but one of mental stability, Sam’s way of checking on Steve as well as looking after Bucky.  


     “I can carry him.”  


     “Good. Now tell me what happened.”  


     By the time he had finished the retelling, a car was pulling up outside, and they heard hurried steps coming up to Steve’s apartment. With a shift of his legs, and a surge of strength, Steve carefully lifted the unconscious man, cradling him against his chest.  


     “Smooth as you can, Steve.” Sam murmured, rising at the same time.  


     Steve nodded, tucking Bucky’s head under his chin as he moved carefully towards the door, which Bruce was now holding open. Steve was glad Bruce didn’t ask questions, other than: “How can I help?”  


     It took them ten minutes to get from Steve’s up into Tony’s lab, but it was the longest ten minutes of his life. When the elevator doors finally opened, he strode through the lab and lay Bucky where Tony directed. He was quickly bustled out of the way as people got to work. Sam and a S.H.I.E.L.D. medic he only just noticed attached wires and machines to the flesh part of his friend, while Tony and Bruce got to work on the arm. Steve didn’t leave the room, eyes fixed on the shallow rise and fall of Bucky’s chest. His thoughts were blank, apart from one phrase, rattling around his head Steve mentally chanted it like a mantra, like it would help.  


_Don’t leave me Bucky._

  


     **  


     Steve hadn’t left, even when Sam had warned him that he was pushing himself, even when Tony yelled at him to get out of his hair, and when Bruce said he should go eat. His only response had been a shake of the head, and in Tony’s case, a “Shut up, Tony.” He blamed this on himself, and why shouldn’t he? He had given Bucky the pliers. But more importantly, all of the events leading up to this moment were his fault. Had Steve not asked Bucky all those years ago to, _‘follow Captain America into the jaws of death’_ , he never would have been on that train, never have fallen, never have faced Hydra alone. Steve gritted his teeth, dug his fingernails into his palms, and then sighed raggedly as he pulled himself out of that dangerous spiral of thought.  


     They had managed to stabilise Bucky, and to repair what damage he had done to himself. Tony had said that the arm was somehow wired into not only his nervous system, but directly to his brain. In attempting to rip wires out of his arm, he had done as much damage as trying to rip nerves out of his flesh arm would have done to both the arm and his brain.  


     Bucky was quiet now, too quiet in the otherwise empty lab. They had drugged him, to prevent him waking up while they were working, and it hadn’t worn off yet, not even after four hours. No one was sure when he’d wake up.  


     It was then that Steve heard a noise, faint but out of place in the lab. He straightened from the wall, moved over to where Bucky lay, scanning the equipment even though he had no idea what to look for. The noise again, the faintest groan of someone resisting consciousness and failing. He looked down at Bucky, eyes flicking over his face for any sign of consciousness. Bucky’s brow furrowed, as it so often used to, and he groaned again, louder.  


     “Bucky?”  


     He groaned again, and this time the noise ended in a soft: _“Fuck”._  


     Steve leaned forward, his hands on the edge of the medical table, getting his face right in Bucky’s as his eyes flickered open. Steve’s eyes narrowed. Bucky’s eyes widened as though he was remembering the times Steve had worn the same expression as he berated Bucky for doing something stupid. Then Steve was growling: “What the hell was that, Buck!”  


     **  


     It had taken both Clint and Nat, with some underhanded techniques thrown in, to get Steve into another room, where he was still fuming, pacing like a caged animal. He rubbed his wrist as he moved, silently cursing Natasha for biting him, Bucky for being such an idiot, and himself for being even more of an idiot. They had locked him in here to let him pace out his anger. This was one of the lab’s many storage rooms, and though it was large, the actual amount of floor space was minimal. There was nothing useful in the boxes scattered around. Steve had nothing to do with his hands, nothing to keep his mind off what could be happening in the other room. There was nothing to stop him from blaming himself again. Maybe one day they’d laugh about this, _‘Hey remember that time you tried to amputate your arm with a pair of pliers? What a riot!’_ But today wasn’t that day.  


     Half an hour after Steve had been removed from the other room, the lock on the door clicked open. He stopped moving, in the middle of the room, and he was ready to … he didn’t know what. But when Bucky opened the door, dressed in borrowed pants and looking exhausted, Steve deflated, all of the arguments leaving him as he looked Bucky over. Steve opened his mouth, closed it again, frowned, and tried again.  


     “You shouldn’t be up.”  


     “The man with the beard, Tony? His computer said… something I didn’t catch, then the doctor said I could get up. Sam said I should come find you.”  


     Bucky looked like hell, Steve noticed as he spoke. His hair was a mess, and there were bags under his eyes. He kept his arms wrapped around his waist, hunching ever so slightly as he protected himself from something only he could see. Steve approached slowly, not sure how Bucky would react. What he wanted to do was reach out and touch him, make sure this wasn’t just some trick of his mind, and then shake him for doing something so stupid. But he didn’t. Bucky wasn’t the same as he remembered him. This Bucky had been broken, and was trying to put himself back together again. With this Bucky, he wasn’t sure where he stood, wasn’t sure about anything really. He stopped just in front of him, just within arm’s reach.  


     “Why… why did you do it, Buck?” Steve wasn’t sure he’d get an answer, but had to ask. He had to know.  


     Bucky didn’t answer for a long time, thoughts flickering across his face too quickly for Steve to follow. When he did answer, it was hesitant, as though he hadn’t quite worked it out himself, but wanted, needed, to give an answer.  


     “I hadn’t planned on it, hadn’t planned on doing - ” his hands came up, scraping through his hair roughly, and he paused for a moment, before continuing. “Hadn’t planned on doing that. When I asked for the pliers, it was to remove… something that had gotten under the top layer… it’s still there now, actually.” Bucky’s sentences were disjointed, as though he couldn’t focus on a single thought for more than a few moments. His hands dropped from his head, and the flesh one rubbed the forearm of the metal one, as though he could feel something in there like a stone in his shoe. He glanced down at his feet, then back up at Steve. The guilt on Bucky’s face was like a blow to Steve’s gut. “I just… as soon as I had the means to… I just needed to get rid of it, all of it. That crawling feeling you get, when you see or touch something you find repulsive? I couldn’t look at this - ” His metal hand clenched, and he lifted it slightly before dropping it to his side. “ - without remembering them, what they did, what they made me do. I couldn’t look at it anymore, I couldn’t touch it anymore, I couldn’t let it touch me anymore, so I just…” Bucky trailed off, something flickering across his face, too fast to catch, before he sighed. “Tony said they’d wired it to me in a way he can’t remove. Some fancy words, some angry noises, et cetera. He’s said there’s nothing he can do. Hydra made it, attached it, with no thought about removing it, so they didn’t make it possible.” He ground his teeth together, and the noise was loud in the otherwise silent room. His hands lifted, then dropped helplessly, and he looked so lost that Steve couldn’t not do something.  


     Slowly, so that Bucky had enough time to protest the touch, Steve reached out and rested his hands on Bucky’s shoulders for a moment. When Bucky didn’t protest, Steve pulled him into a hug. There was a moment of hesitation, and then Steve felt Bucky wrap his arms around him, careful at first. Within a moment he was clinging to Steve, fingers digging into skin nearly hard enough to bruise even the supersoldier. Keeping one hand around Bucky’s shoulders tightly, Steve lifted his other hand, running it through Bucky’s hair like he had when they were children, when something had gone wrong enough to spook the unflappable Bucky Barnes.  


     “I’m sorry, Stevie.” The words was quiet, mumbled against his collar bone. It broke his heart to see his proud friend like this.  


     “Buck, remember when we were younger, I’d always get into fights, you’d always be pullin’ me outta them? There were times when I thought you’d get sick of me. Scrawny little thing, always so sick, and yet always ended up in punch ups over this or that. But when I was tucked up in bed, from bein’ sick, or bein’ hit one too many times, you’d always look at me and say somethin’ that seemed to make it right again.” He tucked Bucky’s head under his chin, speaking softly to him. “But now it’s my turn to look after you, whether you want me to or not, so I’m sayin’ it to you, and you better believe it. Doesn’t matter what you do, what you say, or what others think, I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, Buck.”  


     **  


     The path to recovery was long, slow, and full of pitfalls. Months passed, and Bucky was never driven to physically attacking himself again. However, at times, it looked as though he was seriously considering it, Stark’s warnings be damned. Sometimes Bucky would disappear for days, weeks, without contact, and then he’d be there again, with no word of where he had been, or what he had done. There were whispers around the reforming S.H.I.E.L.D. agency though. Hydra bases all around the world were still being attacked, still being taken out. There were rumours of who might have been responsible. There was no proof, as no one was left alive, all evidence removed, and by the time S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived on location, only a smouldering wreck would be left standing. It was the same method at every base, and the timing fit with Bucky’s disappearances, but Steve didn’t bring it up. The Winter Soldier had some cleaning up to do, and Steve could respect that. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry while he was gone and fuss over him when he came home, but he never asked Bucky to stop leaving.  


     When he wasn’t traipsing around the world looking for trouble, Bucky stayed with Steve, which was both a blessing and a curse for him.  


     The fact that he was there, alive, slowly becoming more of a person again, was a blessing. Bucky now was different to the Bucky from before the war, but that was to be expected. He seemed to have most of his memories back, memories of their childhood on the docks of Brooklyn, but acted as though he wasn’t sure what to do with them, whether to believe they were real or not. Some things he hadn’t gotten back yet, but they were mostly things from his time with Hydra, so neither of them was complaining.  


     Steve was able to share things with him again: jokes, work, physical contact. All of which Steve hadn’t known he had been missing, but now that he had it, he felt more like a person again. That was a blessing.  


     However, sometimes Steve would wake up, hearing whimpers, mumbled Russian, and sounds of pain loud enough to filter through the walls. Those nights were frequent, and when Steve woke Bucky up, shaking him gently, speaking to him softly, the sheer terror on his face made Steve wish their positions had been reversed, that he had gone through Hydra’s torture instead.  


     There were times when they were talking, or watching something, or even walking around the city, and something would cause Bucky to shut down or lash out. Almost always, when these episodes happened, he would either speak incoherent English or Russian. After the first time, Steve had approached Nat about learning Russian from her, but most of what Bucky would say was still out of his grasp.  


     Beyond all of that, the sheer proximity to Bucky was setting him on edge for a different reason. With each day that passed Bucky got better, and that meant little bits of his old self were showing through in everything he did. Steve was reminded why he had been in love with him since they were kids. The little smirk he wore when something went his way, the oldies jazz songs he would hum softly to himself when he thought no one was around, the way he’d whine, _‘Aw, but come on Stevie. I can’t live without these’_ and innocently blink those stupidly beautiful eyes over the top of a box of anything sweet in the supermarket. Everything he did was another thing to fall in love with all over again.  


     Steve had never told Bucky about his feelings before the war. The fear of losing his friendship was too strong for him to risk it. Being best friends was good enough for him. Steve didn’t want to lose that. Those thoughts hadn’t been enough to stop the pangs of jealousy when he had seen Bucky with women. Steve had been scrawny, sickly, and male - the complete opposite of anyone Bucky had ever looked twice at. There had been times when his heart jumped when Bucky noticed him staring, but if he buried his nose back into whatever he was doing, he could pretend it never happened. Bucky hadn’t mentioned it either. Steve had sketchbooks full of drawings of Bucky, but thankfully Bucky never thought it was strange. In fact, it seemed to boost his ego, so Steve kept it up. In the winters, they slept wrapped around each other to stay warm in their cold, draughty Brooklyn apartment, and maybe he had woken up a little too close sometimes, but Bucky never said anything about that either. Steve had cherished those moments, even though he had verbally protested, knowing that was as close as he would get to any semblance of anything romantic with his closest friend.

The closeness now wasn’t helping Steve’s situation, but Steve never did nor said anything that would lead anyone, especially Bucky, to think there was anything more going on in his head than concern for Bucky and happiness that he had his friend back.  


     The current situation was one of many that tested Steve’s self-control. There were times where Bucky craved contact, needed it after years of nothing but the bare minimum and tonight was one of them. Bucky was sprawled across his legs, head resting against his thigh as he watched the movie on TV. One of his hands was resting on Steve’s knee, thumb absently rubbing against the denim. Steve had one hand threaded through Bucky’s hair, stroking the soft strands as he knew he liked. The cat. The other hand lay in his lap behind Bucky’s head, clenched tight, fingernails digging into his palm as he made himself concentrate on the events of the movie and not the person watching it with him.  


     “Am I making you uncomfortable, blondie?”  


     Steve jumped slightly at the voice, and glanced down, to see Bucky had turned his head and was looking up at him, expression guarded. Steve immediately shook his head. “I’m not uncom-“  


     “Liar.”  


     Damn him and his eyes that saw too much. “You’re not makin-“  


     “Liar.”  


     Steve’s mouth snapped shut and he glared at the man in front of him. Bucky sat up and met Steve’s gaze unflinchingly.  


     “You tell me true, Steven Grant Rogers, am I makin’ you uncomfortable?”  


     Damn, Bucky’s Brooklyn accent was making an appearance. When it came to that confident drawl, he was an absolute goner. When Steve didn’t answer, couldn’t answer without giving anything away, Bucky continued, his words thought out and sounding like he had been waiting to say them for a while.  


     “I appreciate everything you’ve done, and continue to do for me, Stevie. I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t been there for me when you were. But I don’t want you to be doin’ things that put you in an uncomfortable position, for my benefit. I don’t want you to be shortchanging yourself to help me. Don’t say you don’t, I’m not stupid, and I’m not blind. I hate seein’ you do it, and it’s not just me you do it for. You put yourself so far down on your priorities list, and it’s hurting you, whether you realise it or not. I know it’s hypocritical comin’ from me, but at least tell me what’s goin’ on in that thick skull of yours.”  


     Steve still didn’t answer, staring at the wall just past Bucky’s head. Was he really that bad? Of course he put others ahead of himself, others needed his support more than he needed it. He shook his head slightly, still not meeting Bucky’s gaze. Maybe one day he’d be able to talk about that, talk about why he was like that. Maybe one day he’d talk about why, at times like this, he sat so rigidly, and never looked Bucky in the eye “I can’t, I can’t talk about… not yet. I’m sorry Buck, you deserve bet - ” He hadn’t expected it, but suddenly Bucky’s lips were on his, cutting him off, and they were softer than he had ever imagined. His hand automatically came up to frame Bucky’s face, and -  


     He shut down completely, mind going completely blank as blood pounded in his ears. Bucky pulled back, and Steve saw a flare of panic in his eyes before they closed, his head turning away. Bucky didn’t move away, but didn’t move closer either, refusing to look at Steve. His cheeks were flushed, and he looked like he was mentally kicking himself, lip curled in self-disgust. That expression was what broke through the haze in Steve’s mind, kicking it into overdrive. Either this was the stupidest thing he had ever done, or the smartest, and he had absolutely no idea how this would end. But he couldn’t let Bucky think that he wasn’t interested. Not anymore. Steve had never been a coward, and that wasn’t going to change now.  


     Lifting the hand that had fallen to his lap, Steve tucked a finger under Bucky’s chin. He was gentle, but ignored the resistance as he pulled Bucky’s head up again. Bucky’s eyes opened slowly, and they met his after a moment. “I’m sorry Stevie, I just-” Bucky cut himself off, and tried to pull back, but Steve’s finger on his chin kept him in place.  


     Without hesitating any longer, Steve leaned forward and pressed his lips against Bucky’s before pulling back slightly. “Been wantin’ to do that for a long time” Steve murmured.  


     Bucky immediately shifted position, straddling Steve’s legs and pressing Steve back against the couch with firm hands. Bucky’s knees framed his hips as he settled his weight onto Steve’s thighs.  


     “You lyin’ to me again Stevie?” His grey-blue eyes held Steve’s gaze, and Steve couldn’t look away as he shook his head slightly.  


     “What would I gain from lying Buck?”  


     “How long?” Bucky’s face didn’t give anything away as he spoke.  


     “Have I known, or…?”  


     Bucky shrugged. Steve shifted his hands to Bucky’s hips, thumbs skimming along the edge of his sweater. Bucky either didn’t notice, or didn’t care, but Steve still berated himself for the slip. He didn’t move his hands though.  


     “I’ve known I was in love with you since you came to tell me that you were bein’ shipped out, when I was faced with the reality that you were leavin’, and you might never come back. When I actually fell for you? Probably when we were kids. You were my hero, Buck. Hell, you still are.”  


     “We were both absolute fuckin’ idiots then. It’s always been you, Stevie.”  


     Steve’s breath caught, his eyes widening. His heart beat even faster as he didn’t break eye contact. There was something else though, something he had to ask, so he did, voice quiet. “But what about…?”  


     “The women?”  


     When Steve nodded, Bucky sighed, and Steve saw the flicker of regret in his eyes. Bucky glanced to where his hands were starting to gather the material of Steve’s shirt between fingers, worrying at the material.  


     “It was what was expected of me… Bein’ gay in the forties was like signing your own death warrant. So I did what my family expected of me, did what my friends expected of me. Didn’t help that I was sure you weren’t interested. So I never brought it up.” Bucky hesitated, and looked like he was working out what to say, or if he should even say it. “Did you ever…?”  


     “I didn’t think I’d ever get you, Buck, and women were nearly lining up to even see Captain America, let alone…” Steve sighed, cutting himself off, and decided he might as well tell the whole story. “Then there was Peggy, you remember her? Peggy Carter. That never got anywhere, war’s not really the place to be havin’ relations, but I’m sure I loved her. As much as someone with a broken heart could love, I loved her. Then I died. And you came back.”  


     There was silence, and then Bucky leaned forward, one hand shifting up to curl into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. He brushed his lips along his jaw, and Steve sighed softly, fingers tightening slightly on Bucky’s hips. Steve nibbled his bottom lip as his eyes flickered closed, and when Bucky’s teeth replaced his, his breath hitched. What blood hadn’t gone south pounded in his ears, and when he finally, _finally_ had Bucky’s lips against his properly, he couldn’t stop himself from groaning low in his throat.  


     **  


     Bucky chuckled, pressing himself closer to Steve as he deepened the kiss, moving his left hand from his shoulder to press against the couch behind Steve. There was no way Bucky was going to accidentally hurt Steve with it, no way he would let himself hurt Steve with it again.  


     Their chests pressed together, and in that moment, he hated his thick sweater. It had been keeping him warm, but was now keeping him further away from Steve. Too many clothes. That needed to change. Pulling back for a moment, despite hearing reluctant whine, Bucky detangled his hand from Steve’s hair and yanked the top over his head. His tee went with the heavy material, and he didn’t try to stop it, tossing it to the side as Steve ran his hands lightly up Bucky’s sides.  


     Bucky felt strong fingers trail across the scarred mess of his shoulder and cautiously looked at Steve to judge his reaction. Sure, this wasn’t the first time Steve had seen the scars. It wasn’t the first time he had seen Bucky shirtless either, but it was different this time. This time Steve could look without feeling like a creep. This time he was meant to look. It mattered what Steve thought more than ever. Steve’s face betrayed his thoughts, and Bucky read them easily. There was pain, regret, guilt, and anger. But, no disgust, no fear. Bucky’s eyes closed, and he released the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. He knew Steve would beat himself up over the injury, that was just who Steve was, but he was so relieved to know this ugly thing wouldn’t lose him the love of his life.  


     He wasn’t prepared for the soft touch of lips against the jagged seam that joined metal with man. He wasn’t prepared for the gentle pressure sliding down the metal plates. He wasn’t prepared for Steve to lift that hand, used for killing and breaking, and kiss the palm lightly, before linking his fingers with those cold ones.  


     “It’s part of you, Buck. It’s not gonna scare me away.” Steve once again proving he was more perceptive than people assumed.  


     Bucky smiled hesitantly, then shifted, rising to his feet, holding his hands out for Steve. He pulled Steve to his feet when he reached up, shifting backwards to make room. There was a faint tremble in Bucky’s hands, and he quickly masked it. God, he was as nervous as a teenager on their first date. Keeping one hand clasped tight on Steve’s, Bucky led him wordlessly towards the closest bedroom. He knew he was pushing it, knew he shouldn’t even consider doing this. Not until they had sorted themselves out at least, but when Steve didn’t protest, he didn’t change his course. As soon as they had both crossed the threshold, something changed in Steve.  


     He pulled his hand out of Bucky’s, closing the door firmly behind him with a smirk before pulling his shirt over his head. Bucky couldn’t do anything but watch, eyes tracing over the golden skin as it was exposed to his gaze. God. He was perfect. Those abs, his pecs. Bucky was practically drooling. He reached out, running his hands over the taut skin as Steve herded him backwards, fusing their mouths together in a kiss that had no resemblance to the previous one. This time it was all power and need, and Bucky found he didn’t mind that one bit.  


     Bucky felt the edge of the bed - Steve’s bed - against his legs and sprawled backwards, taking a gasping breath as their kiss broke for a moment. He shuffled backwards as the Steve crawled onto the bed after him, that smirk still in place.  


     “I see they call you Captain for a reason,” Bucky drawled, as Steve’s hands worked at the belt of Bucky’s jeans. He lifted his hips when prompted, and Steve worked the denim down his legs before tossing it aside. Bucky grinned when he heard the sharp intake of breath that heralded the realisation that he hadn’t been wearing underwear (the only good clothing choice Bucky had made today), and he was hard as a rock. He didn’t move as Steve admired him, and he felt his confidence swell. After a moment, Bucky reached out with one foot and nudged at the waistband of Steve’s jeans. “Off,” he demanded, and shifted, rolling his hips in a way he knew would get Steve’s attention. He wanted skin on skin, and wasn’t above using anything in his power to make that happen.  


     Luckily Steve seemed to want the same thing, fumbling as he tried to quickly shed his own jeans. Bucky didn’t wait, pulling Steve on top of him, and groaned softly at the contact. Fuck yeah. Bucky rolled his hips against him, catching Steve’s groan in his mouth as he ran his hands over the expanse of Steve’s back. Though Bucky had fallen for the small, sickly Steve, he wasn’t going to complain about the solid mass pressing him into the mattress. Ultimately, it wasn’t the body he loved, it was the man. But still. This body was _awesome_.  


     When Bucky felt a warm hand close around his cock, his head kicked back with a shout. His fingers dug into Steve’s shoulders as the pleasure of that contact ran through him. He held back a groan as Steve stroked him slowly for a moment. When the warmth disappeared from him completely, Bucky whined. His eyes flickered open, even though he didn’t remember them closing, searching for Steve. Bucky glanced down to see Steve’s head mere inches from his cock as he felt the soft puff of air against his skin. As soon as their eyes met, Steve, like the little shit he was, swallowed him down in one go. The supersoldier serum must have fixed his gag reflex. Bucky almost came there and then. He reached for something to hold onto. His hand landed on Steve’s head so he just grabbed his hair.  


     “St-Steve!” Bucky managed to gasp out, as the fingers of his left hand dug into the sheets beside him. Steve laughed low in his throat and didn’t let up in the slightest. _God that man had a mouth on him_. He licked and sucked and stroked like the cock in front of him was his favourite treat, and Bucky groaned, fingers clenching on the sheets even tighter. There was a tearing noise as the sheet gave way, and Steve chuckled, releasing his cock before running his tongue up the underside teasingly. Steve slipped away, and Bucky closed his eyes briefly, not entirely sure that he wasn’t dreaming. Gasping for air, the hand that had been in Steve’s hair circled his own cock, stroking and twisting as his hips lifted into the touch. If Steve wasn’t going to finish him off, then Bucky was going to take care of it himself, thank you very much.  


     The click of a cap opening had Bucky focusing on Steve again. He had a wicked smile on his face, and his eyes were fixed on Bucky’s hand. The lube bottle hung limply from his fingers. “Oh Captain, my Captain,” Bucky drawled, the hitch in his voice proving he wasn’t as grounded as the words implied. Steve moved closer, and Bucky shifted his legs in response, spreading them wide to let Steve settle between them. Steve bit at his thighs lightly, scraping his teeth against sensitive skin. As Bucky’s muscles twitched in surprise, Steve carefully pushed a finger against, then inside him. Bucky swore under his breath back arching, and he groaned softly when he felt Steve still.  


     “Bucky? Talk to me Buck.” Steve’s voice sounded strained, but he didn’t move. Not even when Bucky pressed his hips down against his hand, both hands digging into the sheets roughly.  


     For a moment, Bucky couldn’t answer, mouth gaping as he tried to control himself enough to form words. He finally managed to gasp out: “Fuck me, Rogers!” That seemed to do the trick, and he groaned as Steve’s hand started moving, fucking his finger into Bucky slowly and firmly, his fingers crooking to search for Bucky’s prostate. _Ohsweetfuckingjesus_. Before long, Steve added another finger, keeping up his rhythm despite Bucky’s shifting hips and the garbled Russian coming out of his mouth. He wanted more, _now, dammit_! Steve had other plans though, and held Bucky’s hips to the mattress with his free hand. A third finger, and Bucky could feel himself stretching slowly to accommodate the intrusion. The flow of Russian paused as he bit his lip, hard enough to taste blood. God, the things Steve was doing with his fingers, Bucky wasn’t sure if he’d last long enough to feel the press of that beautiful cock. Bucky’s eyes closed, and he tipped his head back on the pillow, releasing his lip and gasping.  


     “With your cock, Rogers, or I’ll find someone else to do it properly!” Bucky’s impatient, broken words had the desired effect. Steve’s hand was removed, leaving him feeling bereft, and Bucky heard the man growl low in his throat. The cap of the lube bottle cracked open again.  


     “What did you say?”  


     The little shit. The anticipation was eating at Bucky, running over his skin like lightning. “You heard me. Now or I’ll find someon - ” The rest of his sentence was cut off with a cry as, finally, Steve thrust into him. It was even better than he had imagined.  


     Bucky felt the stretch, the burn to accommodate the bigger man, but it was so good. The pleasure was overruling any pain he might feel at the moment. Steve didn’t move, his breath falling out of him harshly, fingers digging into Bucky’s hips tightly. He was probably just as close as Bucky was right now. Bucky began to arch his hips impatiently, as much as Steve’s grip would let him. The kiss he got was desperate, their teeth clicking together more than once, as he kissed back just as desperately. His lips trailed across Steve’s cheek until he reached his ear, and he tugged on the lobe with his teeth. Bucky’s legs moved restlessly, one curving over the back of Steve’s thighs. His heel nudged at Steve’s ass as Bucky’s hands clutched at his shoulders, urging him to move.  


     “Come on Rogers. I ‘ain’t no wilting flower. Fuck. Me.”  


     Steve took the hint, and withdrew carefully, thrusting back in. Bucky moaned at the sensation. It didn’t take long before Bucky urged him faster. He rocked his hips back to meet Steve as the other man’s hands moved. One braced against the bed, and the other trailed over Bucky’s skin, tracing his scars, muscles, following the trails of sweat down his chest as Steve moved harder, faster.  


     Steve’s name fell like a prayer from Bucky’s lips, over and over, in time with Steve’s thrusts. Bucky could feel himself tightening, felt the approaching orgasm and fought it off, not wanting this to end. Steve must have felt something change, because he shifted his angle, rolling into Bucky deeper. Bucky saw lights flicker at the edges of his vision as Steve rubbed against _something_. Steve’s name became a keening shout as Bucky was pushed right up against the edge of bliss. Bucky fought it, and fought for it, as body twisted under Steve’s, pulling away and pushing closer all at once. The noise never stopped, even when Bucky felt a strong hand against his cock. Steve stroked him hard and fast in time with his thrusts, thumb rubbing firmly against the head. Bucky didn’t last long, and it was seconds before the noise cut off, his throat constricting. He felt his muscles lock, white light blurring his vision as he came hard, shuddering against Steve’s unrelenting thrusts.  


     Steve lost his rhythm with a growl, and it wasn’t long before Bucky felt the pulse of the cock deep inside him, felt the growing heat in his ass as Steve followed him into orgasm. Damned if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Every muscle was taut, stretched out, veins visible against the skin of Steve’s arms, his mouth parted softly, face flushed. Steve’s eyes never left Bucky’s face as he whispered his name. Bucky groaned, hips rolling into Steve’s slowly as the other man came down from his high, collapsing over him and bringing their mouths together for a soft, thankful kiss.  


     It was a while before Bucky’s heart rate returned to normal. He could still feel Steve deep inside him, could feel the remnants of his own orgasm drying on his chest, and god wasn’t it a beautiful feeling. Breaking the kiss slowly, he looked up into Steve’s eyes. Bucky realised that for all his confidence, there was vulnerability there, and he hurried to find the words that would reassure Steve. “I love you,” Bucky whispered against his lips. “I’ve always loved you Steve, and I’m never going to stop loving you.” The blue eyes above his flickered. Bucky realised that despite everything that had happened, everything that had been said, that was the first time he had uttered those words. As Steve’s face lit up above him, he brushed his lips across his forehead, nose, cheeks, lips, jaw, whispering those three little words over and over until they were cut off by Steve’s lips against his again.  


     “I love you, Buck. You’re stuck with me now. ‘Til the end of the line.”  


     **  


     It had been almost a month now. Though they hadn’t exactly been hiding their relationship, they hadn’t brought it up either. That was about to change. Bucky hummed softly as he stirred the simmering sauce, hips swaying slowly to the music coming over the radio. He heard movement behind him and smiled, not taking his eyes off the collection of pots in front of him. As Steve’s arm came around his waist, Bucky leaned back slightly, resting against the wide chest behind him for a moment before batting Steve’s other hand away from the pot.  


     “No way am I lettin’ your fingers in that pot, Rogers, you might as well give up.” Bucky grumbled. He heard a soft chuckle, and felt Steve press a kiss to his shoulder. The warmth at his back disappeared as Steve ambled towards the fridge. “Stop grazin’, you’ll ruin your dinner.” He heard a dejected sigh and grinned, opening his mouth just as there was a knock at the door. Closing it again, he smiled as Steve went to let their visitors in.  


     Hearing animated voices, Bucky stuck his head out past the island. “What are you guys drinking tonight?” Clint and Sam answered him quickly, and he retrieved the beer out of the fridge for them as Nat thought over her options.  


     “Hey Bucky, didn’t know you could cook!” Clint’s surprised voice came from by the stove, and he turned. Bucky intercepted the fingers going for that same pot of simmer sauce by pushing a bottle into that hand.  


     “Keep your fingers out kid.” He growled, eyes narrowing. Clint pouted childishly, living up to the nickname, then grinned. He took the other beer from Bucky and tossed it to Sam as he walked past the door.  


     “When Steve invited us all over I thought it’d be takeout. Have to say, pleasantly surprised. But just a little disappointed it’s not pizza we’re eating.” The archer looked thoughtful as he spoke, and Bucky gave him a slight push out of the kitchen.  


     “Go see if Nat’s decided on her drink yet, and leave me to cook in peace.” It was only half-hearted, because Bucky didn’t really mind people being around him while he cooked. Hell, even just cooking was a big step up from what he had been doing for the past fifty years, so he wasn’t about to complain when he was offered company as well.  


     “Steve, door,” he called out as he heard more footsteps coming up the stairs, and pulled out serving bowls. Sam came in to give him a hand, dragging Clint, who ended up with a glass of orange juice in one hand for Nat, and three salad bowls precariously balanced in the other, and told to take them to the table.

It didn’t take long to get the food out onto the table. It was a mixture of things, as Bucky hadn’t known what people preferred. From the appreciative noises as each dish was set out, he realised he could’ve made anything and they would have eaten it happily. Steve had opened the double doors onto the small balcony, letting the cooling evening air into the quickly filling apartment.  


     All of the Avengers had arrived, those with significant others dragging them along too, and Phil Coulson had made an appearance as well, now that the nasty business of being dead was cleaned up.  


     After setting the drinks out on the counter and getting the last of the dessert items in the oven, Bucky headed over to the table and said: “Well, you gonna eat or what?”  


     Despite having made enough food for a small army, very little was left as the team sprawled around the lounge with dessert bowls. Clint had managed to get whipped cream all over his face, and Tony was laughing, refusing to tell the archer whether he had gotten it all off even as the man threatened him with dismemberment. Pepper was tucked against Tony’s side, pointedly ignoring her partner’s shenanigans and chatting quietly with Nat, who had her head in Clint’s lap and her feet in Bruce’s. Bruce was talking animatedly with Thor and Jane about Asgardian technology, trying to work out what would be possible to bring to their world. Sam and Coulson were chatting about their old comic collections, arguing over who was the better villain in this franchise, or who wrote the best plot in that one.  


     Bucky sipped at his beer as he sat on the island bench, watching them all relax with a smile, but he could feel Steve’s tension increasing. He looked at the blond leaning next to him, and nudged him with a foot. “This was your idea, punk, time to spill the beans.” Bucky glanced over to see him wince, and grinned.  


     “Hey, guys,” Steve said. He didn’t need to say it loudly. Everyone turned to look almost immediately, curious as to why the fearless Captain America was suddenly so tense. Steve stayed silent for a moment, and that moment stretched as he couldn’t work out what to say. Bucky felt sorry for him and took over.  


     “That patriotic true blue American has been getting ass from me for the past month and hasn’t worked out how to tell you all.”  


     Well, that worked. The tips of Steve’s ears went red and he covered his face with his hands with a soft groan. Clint choked on his drink, obviously not expecting that announcement. There was a common expression on their faces, one that seemed to say _‘finally’_. Coulson grumbled under his breath “I did _not_ need to know that”, shaking his head, but he looked like a proud father with that grin on his face. Sam reached over from where he had dragged one of the dining chairs and patted Steve’s stomach, grinning at his obvious discomfort. 

     Nat spoke for them, looking smug as she thumped Clint on the back until he quietened. “You’re not that sneaky, ya old codgers. But we’re glad you finally figured that out. That sexual tension, _wow_.” She fanned herself for a moment, playing it up, before grinning at them. “The dinner was a nice touch though.” Bucky grinned, as they had taken it better than he had expected, despite the world’s view having changed on same-sex relations. He gestured at the bottles behind him.  


     “Now that that’s out of the way, anyone want another drink?”

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I'm aware of the mind-bogglingly problematic nature of Bucky's mindset in this fic, and the fact that him seeing the arm as he does in the beginning, and therein his attempt to remove it, is inherently ableist. I acknowledge this fact, and I am quite happy to discuss the reasons for this on tumblr if you're interested.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you spot any major issues, or any formatting things that have messed up, or just want to say hello, please flick me a message here, or you can find me on my [tumblr](http://brickhousebuck.tumblr.com)
> 
> But yeah, maybe let me know what you did or didn't like, I'm always looking to improve so any feedback is appreciated :D


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